Poem: Self-Addressed Stamped Envelope
We returned to each other,
after a protracted absence of voluntary volubleness.
We picked up the thread where it had been dropped, enmeshed in other narratives.
The bicycle dance has not yet begun. The delectable debate over all that matters most
will come. Maybe it has already begun
without us talking heads fully understanding
the song language of a courting finch,
desperate to make himself heard.